Awakening
by kattykitty
Summary: When Ace Rimmer is found amidst the wreckage of his ship, the crew of Red Dwarf are contacted by the Law Men who discovered him and asked to claim responsibility for him and take him home. Damaged in both body and mind, Ace finds himself unable to communicate about the horrors he's experienced and it is left to Lister to find a way in. Rated M for torture, death and eventual slash!
1. Chapter 1

The message had come at the worst possible time.

Lister was, for all intents and purposes, doing exactly what he had wanted to do for... well, god, how long had it been now? If he thought about it, it had been if not his top waking thought then at _least _made the top five for the last ten years – maybe a little more – and was now coming to a reality right before his very eyes, tongue, lips and hands. Her scent was assuaging him at every turn, a mix of perfume and a powdery smell that tickled within his nostrils in a way that wasn't so much unpleasant as just _strange_... then, that was understandable. He'd spent so much of his adult life surrounded by men that the very aroma of someone who was far and beyond the most feminine creature he'd experienced in a good long while made him easily heady, blurred the edges of his senses and made him fumble that little bit more, stumble that little bit extra.

As his hand reached up to cup her eagerly responsive breast within his open palm, Lister looked down at the writhing body of Kristine Kochanski and knew that he was definitely the luckiest man on board this ship at that moment in time, if not the luckiest in his universe. Here he was, poised stark naked over this gorgeously, amazingly perfect woman, himself sporting an erection he might as well have been carrying since he was twenty-five and about to finally revisit the long-desired experience of Real Life Sex – and not just sex, oh no. This was sex with The Woman He Had Dreamed Of, the one woman who had been on his mind day in, day out since he could remember... yep, this was something truly special. An auspicious day. He was about to shag the living daylights out of Krissie and, holy hell, if he didn't do it soon he was going to -

"Mr. Lister, sir? May I come in?"

A low growl escaped Lister's throat; Kristine giggled quietly beneath him, her hands splayed out on her stomach as she stared up at him with wide eyes. He grinned at her, shaking his head at the mechanoids terrible timing. "Not really, Kryten, I'm er... I'm a bit busy at the mo. Could you come back in, say... forty minutes?"

"Forty? Is that a promise?" Kochanski whispered teasingly, skating the back of her knuckles against his strained hard-on. He took in a sharp breath, leaning down and quickly capturing her lips in what could only be described as a perfect kiss; it was as if her lips had been made to mould against his own.

Having shushed her, Lister heard the awkward shuffling of the mechanoids hesitation outside the door as if he were already in the room.

"Oh, of... of course sir, not a problem at all."

Lister nipped at Kochanski's lower lip. "Good."

The awkward shuffling did not stop.

"...sir?"

Another growl bubbled out of his throat, deep and frustrated. "What, Kryten? I really am kinda busy right now, you get me?"

"Well, of course I understand the notion of being busy sir, it's just..." Kryten seemed to get a little louder, clearly leaning into the door to make his point – whatever the hell it was. "I just received a message, and it seemed quite important."

Shutting his eyes momentarily, Lister found himself counting to ten slowly under his breath – it was something he had not had to do for some time, an exercise he had picked up mostly when Rimmer had still been on board and particularly grating. He didn't want to get angry at the mechanoid, yet he was very much in the middle of something – or definitely about to put himself in the middle of something – and it was the kind of thing that didn't react well to interruptions. Even as he counted quietly to himself he could feel the atmosphere in the room start to change, the heat of the air beginning to cool ever so slightly and the feel of Kristine's silken skin seeming to vibrate as she shuffled lightly underneath him.

"Mr. Lister?"

Lister opened his eyes. "Can't you just... tell me what it is later?" He stared down at Kristine with a pleading look doused with an extra helping of an apology, very obviously begging for her not to give in to the burgeoning awkwardness. She rolled her eyes, turning her face to the side as her teasing smile of before became slightly smaller, slightly less warm.

"I... it's just that..."

"_Yes?_"

Kryten's voice rose in pitch. "It's regarding Mr. Ace, sir, and I thought you'd want to know straight away -"

It took less than five seconds for Lister to leapfrog over Kochanski – bypassing her slight noise of hurt and disappointment without a second thought – and barrel over to the door, hastily grabbing his t-shirt and pants and pulling them on before commanding the door to unlock. The look on Kryten's face as the door slid open was enough to berate Lister for making the poor mechanoid wait; both worry and confusion seemed to battle for prime emotion on his square-edged face, his feet shuffling in a way that only made Lister's heart beat that little bit faster in fear as his hands wrung themselves together in front of his stomach.

Barely taking a glance into the room at the very-naked Kristine who was currently hastily covering herself up, Kryten shook his head as Lister stepped out beside him.

"I'm very concerned, sir, and I want you to hear this and judge it for yourself before we make any decisions."

"Right you are," Lister agreed without hesitation, walking a little ahead of Kryten as he made his way to the drive room and settled himself down into his chair with a gentle groan, all thoughts of sex forgotten. "Is it all ready for playback?"

"Yes sir," Kryten replied, touching a few buttons on a control pad near him and then standing back so as not to shield the screen opposing them, a screen which was now filling rapidly with pixels to form what could only be described as a severely well-built man in the deep purple outfit of the Law Men in this part of the universe; the man was unmoving for a few moments before sound began to filter through and his lips began to move.

"This is a message to the JMC transport vessel Red Dwarf, specifically a Mr. David Lister; we recently came across a partially destroyed vehicle on the eastern moon of Gretna 10 – looks to have been in the Gretna/Aklan war zone nearby, likely shot out of atmo by a series seven Starblaster vehicle."

Lister shrugged impatiently, his fingertips drumming against the back of his chair as he stared at the man. "This means bugger all to me, Kryten – did you know anything about any war?"

"Yes, sir, I was aware of the war but not of its relevance which, I promise you, is about to be revealed," Kryten assured him, his hands still wringing frantically in front of his abdomen.

The message continued.

" - one survivor of the crash, a Mr. Arnold 'Ace' Rimmer. Myself and many of my team have dealt with Ace on many occasions and can therefore assure you that he is within safe company and being treated in one of the best hospitals in this sector."

Eyes sliding out of focus slightly, Lister found himself standing and walking to be nearer to the monitor. "Kryten..."

" - currently seems unable to speak much of anything, only so far saying his own name and that of a Mr. David Lister."

Lister swallowed. "He said my name."

"That's right, sir," Kryten said in an oddly quiet voice, his tone gentle. "Mr. Ace appears to be asking for you."

" - sending you the details. If you wish to rescind responsibility for the patient then please contact ="

Shutting off the message and turning to walk to the middle of the drive room, Lister found himself gnawing at the inside of his bottom lip as his mind raced over the information they'd just received. He worried away at the skin with his teeth, finding comfort in the action yet being aware in some faraway place in the back of his mind that he was close to making himself bleed.

Not that it mattered. None of that mattered, whatever 'that' was. A thousand and one thoughts were flooding his mind, questions thrown around like rubbish and answers finding themselves unable to attach themselves to anything; there was one question in particular that continued to bubble at the surface, ringing through his brain until he could bear it no longer.

"Kryten, d'you think…"

"Sir?"

Lister hesitated. "Do you think it's the Ace we know?"

Kryten looked at him for a moment as if trying to assess his meaning. "You mean the one that visited us when Mr. Rimmer -"

"Yeah."

Nodding, his hands stopping their wringing for a moment, Kryten's voice was certain as he replied, "Absolutely, sir. I have no doubt that Mr. Ace is the one we have come to know over the years."

_More than you know, _Lister thought to himself wryly. "Then we don't really have a choice, do we?"

Kryten shook his head. "No, sir. I think we're very much on the same wavelength here. Shall I prepare Starbug?"

A curt nod. "Get her prepped and get the info from the message. I'll let Krissie and Cat know what's going on and I'll meet you there in five minutes."

"Of course. Five minutes."

* * *

Bright lights… and pain. So much pain. The screaming in his head was somewhat dimmed now, hazy at the edges from what he could only assume was due to some drug or somesuch, yet it was still there, occasionally slipping into a whine that broke his heart into pieces over and over until he was so certain there was nothing left but dust, coursing through his veins at each simulated thump of the organ that was never really there in the first place, not for a long while. There were voices around him, that much he knew, but no one could touch him – or was it that no one wanted to? Did they know, were they aware of what he had seen, done, lived through? Lived through… lived. He had not lived. He was not alive. He was dead, dead as spam, barely comprehending anything and definitely, one hundred percent as dead as anything he had ever experienced.

Rimmer was dead yes, but here he was. Here he was forced to be without being allowed the choice. Funny how now that he wanted nothing more than to be switched off and left to rot in a damp corner of hell, he could not even communicate it.

He had tried to tell them when they had found him, found his pathetic form cowering in the wreckage of his beloved _Wildfire_, but he'd been able to only say two things – his now achingly useless identity and the name of one other, the one who he had watched die before his very eyes at his own hands, the one who he had tortured and murdered without the ability to stop himself… he had been sure at the time that it was not his fault, that he had been pressed and pushed and cajoled by a mind that was not his own yet he had seen his hands grasp the whip with terrifying tangibility, felt the spray of blood attach itself to his skin as binding as glue, the warmth of it bitter on his tongue as he screamed alongside the man who was now dead. Deader than spam. Dead as he was dead yet not conscious. Not like he was conscious. Not like him. Not at all.

David Lister was completely, utterly dead.

And it had been him who killed him.

He shut his eyes as a moan escaped his lips, his body curling into itself as he reached out with his large, damaged hands to grasp at the blankets beneath his body – but no, he couldn't grab them, couldn't touch them and drag them around him to suffocate as he so desperately wanted. Was this another cruel trick, a hallucination brought on by desperation and fear? He was struggling to remember things, that much was true, so it was entirely possible that this mind had rebelled and was telling him that he was safe, warm, in a room of people who had helped him out of the wreckage and brought him into a place that tasted of chemicals and cleanliness. The moan grew in size and volume, hacking into a laugh that was not of his own making, a laugh so deep and wet and cold that he could not help but lift his hands to grasp pointlessly at his own throat, so desperate he was to rip the sound from his oesophagus and destroy it –

"Ace, Ace, stop that now…"

A warm voice, a sweet voice, female and gentle – so much like the computer that had spoken from the helm of _Wildfire_ in riddles and confusion for the past sixteen days since the crash – and then movement, a woman sitting on the edge of his bed and looking down at him with pity… oh, god, so much pity that it ravaged him deeper than anything from before. He groaned, moaned, whimpered as she patted the blankets around him but – as the others before her – refused to touch him.

"Ace, you're safe now, all right? We're looking after you. Your friends are coming to get you." She peered at him through her pale hair, the strands shimmering underneath the harsh lights. "Do you understand, Ace? You're safe, you're in the hospital and you have people coming to collect you and take you home."

Home… that was a funny notion, wasn't it? The hacking laugh screeched from him again, his head shaking and hands continuing to grasp as his own body as if he could actually make a difference. "Harghuugh… _harughhhh…_"

Distress flipped across her features. "Please, Mr. Rimmer, I… I promise you that everything is going to be all right now. Please understand me, I don't want you harming yourself, you understand? You can hear me, yes? The doctor is coming -" She turned, her whole aura seeming to pulsate with desperation as a tall man in a typical white labcoat walked towards them, " – he's coming to talk to you, he'll explain everything that he can."

"_Harghhugh…"_

"Mr. Rimmer?" The doctor was now at his bedside, looking down at him in that impassive way that only doctors could manage. It was oddly soothing, more so than the woman's wheedling. "Mr. Rimmer, I'm Dr. Hartley and I want to ask you some questions. Do you think you can answer?"

The strange laughter stopped, noise completely eradicated from this one question. Rimmer stared up at him, blinking slowly.

Dr. Hartley cleared his throat. "Mr. Rimmer, we found you amidst the wreckage of your ship. Do you remember that? Can you recall being found?"

Movement behind the man distracted Ace, dark bodies moving en masse – arms flailed, voices were raised. The doctor moved so that he was the only thing within Ace's vision.

"Do you remember what happened? Can you remember being shot down?"

Of its own accord, Rimmer's head began to shake. No… no, he didn't remember that part. He didn't remember that part at all. Most parts were an inconsequential blur.

The doctor gave him a small smile, a sort of reward perhaps for his attempt at communication. "All right. Thank you. Do you remember what happened before that, before you crashed? Can you tell me? Can you speak to me, Mr. Rimmer?"

So many damned questions… no, he could not speak. His voice had broken, hadn't it, from his screaming? Yes, it was broken, torn from him in his echoing fear and resentment – his head shook again, manic in its movement, though this time it was not in denial. He remembered, yes. He remembered that part. He remembered what happened before then. In great detail. So much detail.

"Mr. Rimmer…"

"I have a feeling you're about to ask a poignant question. Doctor, and quite frankly I'd like to hear the answer myself," another voice joined the fray, another body – this one heavy, well-built, not as tall as the doctor but not as short as the woman who was still looking at him as if he were a dying kitten. It grated on him. Mottled hazel eyes cast themselves quickly, erratically over the new man in their midst, taking in the colour of his uniform and alerting him somewhere in the back of his mind that this had been the man to find him – oh, a Law Man. He was a Law Man. The badge on his chest, the gun at his hip… a Law Man.

And he had a question he wanted answering.

"Mr. Rimmer," the doctor continued, leaning down slightly and looking intently at Rimmer as if he could sniff an answer from him before he'd even asked the question, "I need to ask you about what we found in your vessel."

_No, no, no…_

"There was a body in there, Mr. Rimmer," the Law Man said, his voice deep, deeper than any voice he'd heard before. "We found a body in your ship. Can you tell us who it is? Do you know who he is?"

_No, no, no…_ no, he could not. His voice was no longer there, and even if it was he was sure he could not bring himself to say the words. A deep groan rumbled in the back of his throat, sounding far too much like a warning when in fact it was a plea, begging not to ask that question when he had no idea how to answer it.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Rimmer, if you could just nod or shake your head if you're still having problems speaking…?"

"Is that likely to be an effect of the medication he's had?" the Lawman asked, frowning. "Is it going to wear off anytime soon? We'd really like to talk to him."

"I can't say," the doctor admitted, plucking what must have been a clipboard from the end of Rimmer's bed. Rimmer followed the movement with slow eyes. "You saw him when you first picked him up, god knows what's been done to him. This isn't a man who got shot in the shoulder during wartime, Officer Juke; he's undergone serious -"

Rimmer began to tune him out, a numb sort of relief spreading through him as the doctor seemed to distract the Lawman – Officer Juke – from his questioning, not even remotely interested in hearing what Dr. Hartley had discovered upon examining him. What did it matter?

The two men moved away, leaving only the woman by his side; she began to talk softly to him, comforting words, not that he was listening to them or taking any notice of what information she could offer him. The men had moved enough that he could see the reception desk to his far left, see the group of people who were still flailing arms and talking in loud, determined voices. They were familiar… were they familiar? His brain was so heavy, so tired, comprehension was nearly impossible, yet he was sure that he recognised the timbre of the voice demanding answers, almost certain that the shape of the creature beside him was someone he had once known if not still knew. He craned forward slightly, the movement silencing the woman and causing her to look in the direction that he was focusing on – she leapt up, walking quietly and quickly towards the door and out into the hallway, interrupting the man who was so animated with a few words and an extended hand.

Closing his eyes, Rimmer slowly began to feel himself drift. The screaming was not so loud now, the distractions of the group and the woman seeming to dull the sound considerably. He rested his head back, wishing he could feel the cool metal underneath his head and wishing equally hard that the pain that had somehow began to return would dull all of his other senses so that perhaps he could pass out for a while. That would be nice. Being unconscious was a much more preferable option to being awake.

Footsteps approached his bed. Warmth… he couldn't feel it, but he knew it was there. Unspeakable warmth. Familiar warmth. Wanted, needed, the kind of warmth you'd die for.

A voice.

"Rimmer? Er… Ace?"

There was so much pain behind that voice, so much agony… oh god, why was that voice even here? Why wasn't the screaming enough, why couldn't he just be left alone by that godforsaken voice?

"Ace, can you hear me? It's… it's Lister, Ace. We're all here, Cat, Kryten, me, we… we're here to take you to Red Dwarf. We're taking you home, Ace." A small sound, the swallowing of emotion mixed with a sob. "We're taking you home, Rimmer."

His eyes flew open and fixed upon the face.

_NO._

Screams ripped from his throat and deafened him to the voice, blinded him from seeing the man he had killed, screaming, screaming, screaming until he felt nothing and saw no one, slipping into the unconsciousness he had so desperately wanted…

Into silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey peeps! Thanks so much for the Fave's, Follow's and - god, I love 'em - reviews! I figure before I go on that I should warn you that this isn't gonna be a three-chapter fic where it gets to the yummy's by Chapter Two - if you want to get to the gratuitous bits, you'll have to be patient with me. Obviously I'll try to make it worth your while, make it all interesting and awesome, but... yeah. You've been warned. As much as I love a good one-shot, this isn't one of them. ;)**

**Also, Alyx, I'll forgo the vindaloo but if you fancy throwing a log-cabin-shaped mound of chocolate fingers my way, I'd be eternally grateful!  
**

**ONWARDS, TO VICTORY!  
**

* * *

"To be frank with you, Mr. Lister, there isn't really that much we can tell you."

They had been there for what felt like hours now; form after form had been filled out, endless questions about Rimmer's past, his mode of death – something that Lister had slipped out of the room to fill in, not wanting Kryten or Cat to see the truth and invite yet _more _questions – and the supplies they had on board in order to supply home-treatment to a Hologram. Though he was not medically trained in any sense, Lister had automatically assigned himself as Rimmer's primary carer without even thinking of asking either of the others; as far as he saw it, Rimmer had spoken_ his_ name, it had been himself that had been at the forefront of Rimmer's mind when being rescued and therefore it was completely and utterly his responsibility to ensure that the man was taken care of. Though he knew it would be time-consuming, he was adamant. It wasn't as if he had much going on these days anyway.

Once the forms had been filled out and taken back in order to have them processed, the doctor had taken Lister aside in order to explain Rimmer's medical standing and shed some light on the whole situation. As it happened, much to Lister's frustration, he did not know much.

"He's in a hospital for crying out loud – you're a doctor! How is it that you know about as much as we do?" Lister's voice was loud, accusatory. "This is supposed to be one of the finest hospitals in the sector and you're telling me you haven't got a smegging clue what's wrong with him?"

Dr. Hartley flipped through the clipboard's sparse amount of pages. "As it stands, Mr. Rimmer's light bee is currently malfunctioning. We're unable to find a method of switching him to hard light, therefore can't assess his external injuries without his acquiescence."

"He's stuck in soft light? How did that happen, then?"

"We're not sure." The doctor looked up at him, his cold blue eyes emotionless. "He's currently unable to speak."

Frowning, Lister cast a look back at the now-unconscious Rimmer. After screaming himself hoarse, the Hologram had passed out from what the doctors had diagnosed as sheer exhaustion; it had freaked Lister out no end, particularly as he was fairly certain it was his own appearance that had inspired such an extreme reaction. "He's not talking? Why?" A stupid question – he quickly changed it. "Do you at least know if he's badly injured, inside like?"

Dr. Hartley shook his head, though this was not his answer. "We did a scan as soon as he arrived to assess the possibility of any internal damage, of which there appears to be none. We were able to transfer him here via our Portal, but once he was on the bed there really was only so much we could do – we were lucky that he was able to go through the scan without sustaining any damage or damaging the equipment itself."

Lister tore his gaze away from the lifeless body in the bed. "What do you mean? Was he violent?"

"He's a soft light Hologram," the doctor reminded him with the sort of patience that only a doctor could muster whilst talking to ignorant patients and relatives, "so that wasn't and won't be an issue. The damage to his light bee is such that we can't determine what's wrong with it, therefore it's very possible that it could have ruptured or sparked whilst undergoing the scan."

"Okay, right. I see what you mean." The third technician sighed as his eyes flickered back to Rimmer. "I just don't get it, man. How'd he end up in such bad shape? Do you think the voice thing is permanent? Is it a medical thing or is it psycho-whatsit, y'know, because of the stuff going on in his head? Why did he -"

"You have a lot of questions, I know," Dr. Hartley interrupted, placing a hand on Lister's arm. "We do too, which is one of the reasons we think it would be beneficial to have Mr. Rimmer living back on Red Dwarf for the time being."

"What, away from professional help? What good's that gonna do?"

"We believe that whatever Mr. Rimmer has gone through has severely affected his mental state." At Lister's instantaneous alarmed reaction, the doctor shook his head, looking to reassure the man. "He's not likely to go on a killing spree or turn into a psychotic, Mr. Lister, don't worry – what I meant was that we think – as you suggested before – his lack of ability to speak is largely down to psychological reasons. We believe that if he's moved somewhere familiar, somewhere safe and surrounded by people whom he once socialised and communicated with on a regular basis, he'll find himself able to speak once more."

Lister found himself nodding, slightly comforted. "You might be right, not that I really know anything about this sort of thing. I'm a bit overwhelmed, to be honest."

"It's a natural reaction; no one deals particularly well with their loved ones being in a medical facility, especially when there's so much uncertainty involved."

Blanching slightly at the man's wording, Lister found himself shifting uncomfortably. "Ah, we were just crew mates is all, nothing more than that, y'know. We worked together, it's not like we... well, that word you used. There was none of that sort of... thing."

The tiniest of smiles twitched at Dr. Hartley's lips. "I wasn't inferring that you were in a sexual relationship with Mr. Rimmer, if that's what you're concerned about."

"Well." Lister cleared his throat. "Good."

"I just assumed that, as yours was the only name he spoke of barring his own, you were perhaps friends. We often get people requesting friends rather than family members to be their initial contact."

"I wouldn't say we were... friends," Lister said, hesitant. He stopped for a moment, allowing his mind to drift over the possibility. Hadn't he himself, after all, referred to Rimmer as a friend in his 'eulogy'? "I dunno, maybe we were. I guess we did spend a lot of time on the same ship, shared a lot of experiences. Does that count as friendship?"

The doctor looked vaguely amused. "Far be it from me to define your relationship with him, Mr. Lister. I merely wanted you to be reassured that your reaction to his condition is understandable."

Out of the corner of his eye Lister found himself drawn to movement, instantly distracted from the conversation; a thick-set man in a dark purple uniform was making his way over to them, his mouth set in a grim expression that he instantly recognised from the message that had called them here in the first place. He was shorter than he had looked on the message but still held the same sort of confidence that Law Men often exuded, born from the knowledge that they were on the side of the righteous - not to mention the fact that they had a standard-issue laser pistol strapped to their hips. The latter would be enough to give anybody confidence.

He reached them and nodded to the doctor before turning to face Dave, extending his hand. "David Lister? Officer Juke. I found Mr. Rimmer."

Lister grasped the man's hand and shook it firmly, a strange pulsation of gratitude snaking its way through his system. "Thank you for contacting us. And for finding him."

"I hope you don't mind, but I want to take the time to go over a few things with you. About Ace, his situation. Our expectations of you and your crew."

Slightly bewildered, Lister nodded slowly. "No, of... course. Is there a problem?"

The doctor and Juke exchanged a look of blatant significance before the officer returned his gaze to Lister. "How long have you known Ace Rimmer, Mr. Lister?"

An awkward question. Should he say how long he'd known the Ace before this, living and Hologrammatic? Or should he tell the truth, if it wasn't already known? "I, err... he and I, we..."

"I'm already aware of who he is," Juke said, raising a hand. "I'm well-versed in the legend of Ace Rimmer and which parts of it are true, just as I'm well aware of which parts are false. His Ident-Scan told me all I needed to know."

Lister wasn't quite convinced. "Care to illuminate me? Not that I don't trust you, it's just -"

"Second technician Arnold Rimmer of the JMC mining ship Red Dwarf. Acting captain until he took on the responsibility of the hard light Hologram Ace when the latter was erased after severe damage to his light bee almost a year ago. When Mr. Rimmer was killed after a drive plate was incorrectly -"

"All right then," Lister stopped him, nodding. "All clear. In which case, you probably know that I've known Rimmer for... hell, I'm not even sure myself. A long time. Way before he was ever a Hologram. He was my bunkmate, then when he died he was brought back to keep me sane." At the quizzical look the officer shot him, he grinned. "I got locked in stasis for keeping a cat on board the ship. Refused to hand him over to the captain. Everyone else died in the leak but I survived and came back to an empty ship – hence why our computer, Holly, brought Rimmer back to keep me company."

Officer Juke nodded. "So. You've known him for a considerable amount of time."

"Yeah."

"I've had some experience with Ace Rimmer myself over the years, including your current version." He half-smiled as Lister looked in surprise from Rimmer's lifeless form to the officer. "I can tell very well what you think of him, or at least what you thought of him when he was still on board with you. In his Ident description he didn't exactly come off... well."

Lister snorted. "You don't know the half of it."

"Well. We had an issue two months back, a horde of Psiren's decided to take residence on an inhabitable planet a few thousand clicks from here. Ace turned up guns blazing and practically tackled the entire infestation on his own." He laughed, shaking his head. "I genuinely thought we were goners, but he swooped in and dealt with it like it was second nature."

Lister couldn't help it; surely he was mistaken? "Are you sure it was our guy over there? Don't get me wrong, I knew Ace to be a stand-up sorta guy, but _that_ version, _my_ Rimmer... he was a bit of a yellow sort of fella, y'know?"

"It was him, believe me. He really did us a favour, didn't ask for anything in return. A few of the local young ladies practically threw themselves at him in gratitude but he didn't have any of it. Bought us all a few rounds in the biggest drinking establishment in town and bid us a charming farewell."

Now _this _he didn't believe. "Oh come on, you're telling me he didn't shag any of them? At all? Desperate-for-a-shag Rimmer? My Rimmer, Rimmer who slept with less girls in his entire lifetime than I did in my adolescence, he said... no?"

Juke shrugged. "The man's a hero. He's not looking to get lucky."

"Seems bloody lucky to me," Lister muttered, his mind flashing back to the naked woman he had left in a bunk only a few hours ago. "Some of us would kill for that sort of attention."

Dr. Hartley cleared his throat, reminding them both of his presence. "You were saying, officer?"

"Ah, right." Juke straightened up, back to business. "We're in a bit of a tricky situation with our friend here, Mr. Lister."

"Dave."

The man nodded. "Dave, then. We have a few questions we need to ask him but, as I'm sure the good doctor's already told you, he's not in a very talkative mood. Now, we're prepared to be patient because we know the man and, at least as Ace, he's got a stellar reputation. He's never put a foot wrong and as far as we can assume this is just a huge, terrible mistake that he has absolutely nothing to do with."

Lister's brow wrinkled, his confusion evident. "Sorry, but... am I missing something here? I feel like there's some vital sort of info that you have yet to tell me."

Juke eyed him closely for a moment; his eyes were guarded, a shell covering them and hiding his emotions in a way that Lister could have never in a million years done. It was distinctly unnerving.

"I need to know, Mr. Lister – Dave – that any information I divulge is between just you and I. There are parts of the investigation about to go under way that shouldn't be revealed to anyone outside of the force."

"Well, I..." He hesitated, undecided. Did he want to know? Would it help Rimmer to know? "Are you sure it's okay to tell me?"

The officer's eyebrow twitched. "I didn't say it would be okay, Dave, but seeing as you're about to become his primary carer I think it's probably... _prudent_ for you to know the bare basics."

Lister looked him directly in the eye, wanting to know for certain the answer to his next question. "Do you think it would be beneficial to Rimmer's recovery if I know what you want to tell me?"

Juke did not waver. "Could be that's true."

The younger man gave a curt nod. "Then you have my word. Now tell me: what's really going on?"

A look from Officer Juke quickly encouraged the doctor to excuse himself; they both watched him go, waiting until he had rounded the corner. Once he had, Juke turned back to Lister.

"When we found him in the wreckage it was evident that he'd been there for a while. He was barely conscious – alarming in itself considering he's a Hologram. He wasn't quite with us, zoning in and out. It was clear from where I stood that he was injured; there was no blood, of course, but – I'm sure you'll see when you get a closer look back on your ship – he had a few recent scars I've never seen the like of on a Hologram before, deep cuts along his neck and forearms. Whatever was used on him appears to be a more permanently damaging weapon than anything we've seen before – and I've seen a lot of things, Dave," he said in a solemn tone, leaving Lister in no doubt for even a moment of the sincerity of his words. "I've seen some damned bad things in my time on the force, but I've never seen a Hologram wounded like that. It's... disturbing, to say the least."

Swallowing hard and suppressing the questions bubbling up in the back of his mind, Lister nodded for him to continue.

"After a search and rescue salvage, we discovered something in his ship that warrants us to question him further, and as soon as possible."

"Can you be more specific?"

"No," Juke said bluntly, apology hovering in his tone but clearly determined not to let anything more go. "It's important to the investigation that I not divulge that to you."

"O...kay, so, what does this have to do with me being Rimmer's primary carer?"

Officer Juke stepped a little closer. "This won't be easy for you."

Lister squared his shoulders. "Hit me."

"I'm going to need your ship and all its vehicles – including escape pods – tagged." Juke held up his hand to ward off Lister's immediate rebuttal, shaking his head. "I can't compromise on that, Dave, I'm sorry. The fact that I trust the guy and believe him to be innocent of any wrongdoing is completely irrelevant here, he needs to be under watch, complete lock and key."

"What exactly is he innocent of doing?" Dave was starting to feel exasperated to extremes, folding his arms across his chest to suppress his frustration. "I know you can't give me details, but you've gotta give me something if you're gonna tag Red Dwarf."

"I really can't tell you that. Again, I'm sorry." Juke cast a look behind him; Lister followed his gaze, seeing Cat and Kryten hovering awkwardly at Rimmer's bedside. "We just need to keep tabs on him, make sure he can't go anywhere without answering our questions first. In that respect, I need you to do your utmost to get the man talking – I'm not exactly versed in what to do in this sort of situation, but it's pretty damned important that you let me know the minute he starts talking again – and I won't sway on that either." There was a definite steely edge to his tone that Lister had not heard before now, reasserting himself as an authority figure not to be ignored. "The second he opens his mouth, you call me. Don't wait an hour, a day, a month – I need him hot from the chatterbox, you hear me?"

"All right, calm down, I get what you're saying." Lister stared at the man, trying to get a read on him. "I know you say you think he's innocent and all, but for someone convinced he's on the right side of the law you sure seem determined to keep your eyes on him at all times."

Juke's eyes turned deadly serious. "You would understand if you knew what we'd found."

A shiver of dread trickled down Lister's spine at the officer's words, its effects almost numbing in its icy journey. There was something about those words, the deliverance... what on earth had they found? How was Rimmer even remotely involved, or at least, how the hell did he manage to wind himself up in an investigation that required around-the-clock tagging?

He couldn't fathom it, yet he had to press his point. "Do you genuinely believe he's even remotely capable of something as bad as you're making this out to be, Officer?"

There was an honest sort of set to Juke's jaw as he answered, enough that Dave once again could not doubt his truthfulness. "I do not, no. But I have to do my job."

In unison, the two men turned to look once more at Rimmer's still body, Kryten and Cat murmuring to each other quietly as they stood either side of the bed.

Lister uncrossed his arms. "And I have to do mine. Let's get him back to Red Dwarf."


	3. Chapter 3

**What's this, you say? Chapter Three already? HELLS YEAH!**

**Thank you as ever for the love you've given so far. Even one review for every chapter will keep me inspired to continue writing, so... you're fantastic. Truly.  
**

**ONWARDS, TO AWESOMENESS!  
**

* * *

"...three times a day, I think. No, wait, was that this one?"

"I have the paperwork here, sir, if you'd like to check?"

"Thanks, Kryten." A pause. "I was right the first time. _This_ one is three times a day, _this_ one is every hour."

"Very good, sir. Would you like me to label them for you?"

The voices were hushed; if he concentrated hard enough, and at that point he was certainly _trying_ to concentrate, Rimmer could differentiate between the two, though it took a bit of an effort. He was quite sure he was still only half-conscious, his eyelids refusing to flutter open despite the way his eyes were moving like butterflies beneath the thin layer of protective skin – ah, it was uncomfortable. His brain had woken him without his permission, racing away with thoughts and memories and things that he was actually doubting happened at all despite the very real images that flashed up before his closed eyes like an unwelcome film in a darkened theatre... no, he wasn't enjoying this at all. At all. It was unpleasant.

"This one's only once every three days. This one – hang about, this one here says it's once every fortnight! How long do they think this is all gonna last?"

"I think the point is that they _don't_ know and therefore have supplied us with medication fit to last him a fair while, sir." An awkward chuckle. "I'm quite certain that Mr. Ace will be up and about in no time at all, don't you worry."

A sigh, an exhaled breath full of sadness and resignation. Rimmer could feel it from here; it was cool, full, soft. "I dunno, Krytes. How are we supposed to know when he's all right to stop taking them?" Another sigh, this one a little warmer. Closer. The voice was closer, too. "I was stupid to take this on, wasn't I? I should've let them sign him over to you, not me."

The voice that responded was slowly coming further into focus, more familiar to Rimmer's somewhat fogged aural recognition than it had been before. "He requested you especially, Mr. Lister, you know that. If I had accepted official responsibility I have no doubt at all that once he regains consciousness he would be quite, quite upset."

"Yeah, but still..."

"You're not doing this alone, sir, so please don't feel that you are. Myself, the Cat and I'm sure Miss. Kochanski too are always willing and able to help you when you require it."

The soft, full, warm voice of before was closer than ever now. "I know you are, man. This is just... it's going to be difficult." Rimmer's fingers twitched at his sides, his head pressing at him gently to process who he was in the company of, nudging him a little harder when he failed to come up with a name. The murmur in his head – was that his own voice talking to him? - urged him to focus, yet his mind was still hazed at the edges. "I can barely look after myself, let alone another human being. Hologram. Whatever."

The other voice – less warmth but with more courtesy, certainly – was a little further away again. Rimmer found himself clinging onto what he could surmise, grateful that his senses appeared to bne returning, if only so that he could properly assess his situation. "I actually was wondering, sir, if you don't mind me asking about this whole Hol-"

"I know what you're going to ask, Kryten, and I _will_ tell you the truth sometime. Just, maybe not right now. I don't think it's the right time, not for him and not for me."

Rimmer's eyes twitched – light shot painfully through the gap he had created, a small groan bubbling in his throat and escaping through dry, chapped lips that were now parting. He felt rather than saw the movement of the two people in the room, bodies moving closer to him as he once again allowed his eyelids to part and let that god-awful light seep into his vision. A face – blurry, strange, not quite human – shifted into his not-quite-focused eye line, awkward and hovering.

"Mr. Rimmer, sir? Can you hear me?" A shuffle. "I think he's waking up, sir – Mr. Rimmer, are you awake? Can you hear my voice?"

"He can't speak Kryten," the soft voice near his left ear reminded quietly, more familiar now than ever before. "He can't answer you."

The light was dimming now, or perhaps it was just his eyes adjusting to it, Rimmer was unsure; he could see a little clearer, see the square outline of a mechanoid on his right and the altogether more pleasing and equally more horrifying rounded features of the face on his left. He blinked slowly, another groan rolling out of his throat as he tried to shift, his body heavy and almost agonisingly unresponsive. He blinked again, his tongue darting out to wet his sore lips as his eyes began roving around him and taking in his surroundings – ah, these were familiar too, just like the faces. Was that good? It was supposed to be good, his mind reminded him, if only because he was gradually waking up. His fingers twitched once more, lips moving but no sound escaping as he attempted to ask the very simple question of where he was... no, the words weren't coming. They were in his head, bouncing around the walls of his brain as eagerly as a puppy on its first outing yet they were impossible to voice. His voice was impossible. The very idea of vocalising anything was impossible.

The rounded face was now achingly known to him.

The Liverpudlian accent that snaked its way out of the man's awkwardly hesitant mouth flooded him with memory. "Rimmer – Ace. It's Lister, from Red Dwarf. Do you... I mean, nod or shake your head, you don't have to speak, but do you know where you are?"

Lister. Lister. _Lister_.

"I think he recognises you, sir." Kryten. Kryten, the series 4000 mechanoid. He remembered him now. "Look, he's looking at you."

_No I'm not_, he wanted to say, his eyes darting around to avoid doing just that. _I don't want to see him so I'm not going to._

"I dunno, Kryten, you remember what happened in the hospital. Maybe he doesn't want me to be here."

It was impossible, utterly impossible. He couldn't be there, so how could Rimmer want him to not be?

"Mr. Rimmer, sir?" Kryten was speaking again, hovering in a way that was quickly becoming a bit annoying. "You're on Red Dwarf, in the Hologram simulation suite. Can you confirm by nodding or shaking your head that you understand that?"

Rimmer blinked, moisture slipping from the corner of his eye. His stare swivelled to meet Kryten's worried gaze, locking onto it as he focused on breathing and keeping calm; his mind told him in a rather matter-of-fact way to nod, which he did – oh, that wasn't a very nice feeling. His muscles threatened to go into spasm, encouraging him in a not-so-friendly manner to not move again.

Apparently, however, that movement was enough for the mechanoid. "Very good, sir, very good. Thank you. Do you think you could tell me what day it is, perhaps?"

His mind was clearing, as were his memories... no, this was not good and, no, he could not tell Kryten what day it was. The images that had plagued him in his dreams were now at the forefront with a vengeance, replaying Hell before his very eyes and sending a sliver of fear up his body as his gaze flitted over the outline of Lister – David Lister, second technician – and jumbled his thoughts into a slushy mess that he could not sift through. Rimmer could not quite understand it, the strange visuals behind his eyes versus the very real man standing beside him with that concerned, wide-eyed look that made it feel as if a blunt knife was carving away at his skin... the logic was not connecting, not making any sense whatsoever.

The Man Who Was Apparently Lister ran his hand through his hair, fiddling with his locks as he shook his head. "It's not right, Kryten man. Something's not right."

"Be patient, sir, he's under the influence of a lot of Hologramatic chemicals at this point in time. We can't expect him to respond as you or I would."

Was that it, then? Was it the chemicals Kryten spoke of – oh, that was right, he had been in hospital, hadn't he? - that were making him addled, confused? Perhaps Lister was a hallucination. He'd had many of those recently.

Lister shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes flitting nervously from Rimmer to Kryten as if he had absolutely no idea what to do next. _Huh_, Rimmer thought to himself, sarcasm dripping from his inner tone as naturally as sweat, _how do you think I feel? At least you can talk, communicate – hell, at least you can stand on your own two feet! _As if reacting to his desire to do the very same, the muscles in his legs twitched, spasming enough to make him shoot forward and reach out to grasp his calf in a gut reaction to pain; the movement jarred Kryten and Lister both, Rimmer's eyes registering the surprise on their faces which was, he noted, closely followed by fear... interesting. They were afraid of him. Were they? Did they think he was a threat to them?

Something came back to him: hadn't Lister said that he was a soft light Hologram? Ah. Aha. Of course he was. It made perfect sense. After everything that had happened, after what he had been forced to witness, experience, _do_... yes, it made complete sense.

There was no reason on this earth that he could ever want to return to hard light.

Lister's hands slowly extended, reaching towards him as if to calm him; Rimmer snorted inwardly at this, a wonderfully normal response, as ever not surprised by the man's stupidity. Still he refused to meet his wary gaze, keeping his eyes trained carefully on the light-projected hands still wrapped around his calf. He kept this up even as Lister shifted further into view, hands still out as if he had a hope in hell of actually touching him.

"Rimmer, are you okay? Are you in pain?"

Impossible. Yes, he was in pain. Somehow. That didn't seem right, being soft light and being in pain. But, impossible. Lister was not standing there, was not asking him if he was hurting. What a silly situation this was. It was almost laughable.

Yet, there he was. And Rimmer was not laughing.

* * *

"Sir, I can't help but feel that the both of us being here is more likely to be detrimental to Mr. Ace's progression than if it were just _one_ of us."

Lister could barely hear the mechanoid, so focused he was on what had happened in the past few minutes. It was definitely Rimmer, his Rimmer, the one who had flown off into the metaphorical sunset to become the sort of hero that legends only dream of, yet something was so incredibly, ridiculously _wrong_ with this picture. For starters, the Hologram was still in the clothes he had arrived at the hospital with, those metallic tinfoil-like trousers and the roll-neck cream top – both torn, both bloodied, both... well, ruined. It concerned Lister, mostly due to the fact that the blood on his top could not be his own – Rimmer did not bleed, he knew for a fact. But that was a thought for another time.

Then there was his actions, reactions – or lack thereof. It was utterly obvious to Lister that Rimmer had been avoiding his gaze so far, that the man was refusing to even look in his direction let alone into his eyes... that wasn't like Rimmer. _His_ Rimmer would have taken any opportunity to project the disdain and – at least over the last couple of years – begrudging geniality at his inferior, insults and sarcasm aplenty as he wittered on about Lister's insubordination and lack of personal hygiene. This Rimmer, he was acting as if Lister weren't even in the room, somehow managing to only focus his attentions on the room, his own body and – damn it – Kryten. It was starting to really grate at him, though he knew that this was only down to the resounding concern that was slowly building up inside his chest.

Had he done something before Rimmer had left, something hideously offensive? His mind roved over the possibilities but, no, he had been nothing but supportive and encouraging. He'd made it abundantly clear that he was glad of Rimmer's decision to give being Ace a go, that he was – dare he say it – _proud_ of Rimmer's choice, even if the man had practically been pushed into it.

So, it made no real sense. Unless Rimmer had somehow used the time away to build up a severe hatred of him – and he had to admit that it was possible with a mind like Rimmer's – he genuinely couldn't come up with a believable reason for the indifference.

For the first time in his life, Lister realised what people meant when they said that indifference hurt more than hate.

Kryten's voice broke through his thoughts, loud and almost abrasive. "Sir? Did you hear me?"

The mechanoid was right next to his ear; Lister stepped away, frowning. "Jesus, man, you didn't have to give me an ear job!"

"Oh, forgive me, I just wasn't sure if you heard me before." Kryten was looking down at his hands, embarrassed. "I merely mentioned the idea of one of us leaving, see if Mr. Ace responds better with less company."

Though Lister felt a little guilty for his mocking comment before, he did not apologise; he was simply too distracted, particularly now. "You think I should leave?"

Hesitation flickered across Kryten's face. "I... er, no, sir. I was actually trying to subtly suggest that I should busy myself with making yourself and Mr. Cat dinner whilst you spend some time alone with Mr. Ace." He was wringing his hands as he had when he had first told Lister about the message, clearly concerned. "It's not that I don't want to spend time with him, I hope you understand, but I can't help but feel it would be beneficial if you, as his primary carer, were to approach the suggestion of talking on your own and without me standing over your shoulder."

It made sense, yet there was something about the idea of having to spend time alone with the shell of a Hologram behind them that made Lister tense. "D'you really think that'd help? You can see what he's like me with me, Krytes, he doesn't even acknowledge my existence. I think I preferred it when he was a snidey, total and utter bastard."

"I'm afraid I must insist," Kryten pressed, apologetic to the very core, "and I'm sorry for it, sir. I know you're uncomfortable with him and of course I haven't failed to notice the way that he is reacting to you, however it's quite clear to me that if you're going to be his carer -"

"Yeah, I know." Lister glanced back at Rimmer; the man was now lying back again, staring at the ceiling the way that Lister did when he was absolutely hammered. "Okay. All right." He sighed. "I'll give it a go, but I don't reckon we'll get anywhere tonight."

As the mechanoid marched out of the room Lister turned to fully face Rimmer, his hands clenching slightly in apprehension as he slowly walked towards him. He kept his eyes trained on the Hologram, trying as hard as he could to reassure himself that he was simply reading too much into a difficult situation and that Rimmer wasn't ignoring him at all... he was probably just overwhelmed. Once Lister had the chance to sit down and actually talk to him, Rimmer would return to normal. Absolutely. He had no doubt.

Well, he had a lot of doubts. But it felt good to pretend.

Perching on the edge of the metal chair that he had placed next to Rimmer's bed earlier, Lister allowed himself a few moments to take the form of Rimmer's body in and store it to memory, remembering the doctor's observations and suggestions. He could see now, as close as he was, what the doctor had mentioned; the thick lines of scarring working its way in an almost ornate pattern around Rimmer's throat and the sides of his neck – they disappeared into the neckline of his top, though, reminding Lister that at some point he'd have to convince Rimmer to de-clothe himself in order for the third technician to properly document any other markings or scars that were lying underneath the material. The doctor had told him it was an important part of Rimmer's recovery, to make observations as best as he could on how the scars changed and if they faded, if they lessened, if they disappeared completely... something to do with further analysing what sort of instrument could have made such markings on a Hologram who was supposed to be virtually indestructible.

Either way, it would not be an easy task.

Lister allowed his gaze to lift once more to Rimmer's face, aware that not once had the man looked at him and not once had he given any indication that he even knew Lister was beside him; well, he'd have to do _something_. What had the doctor suggested? Aimless chatter, updates on life on the ship, things that had no bearing with what Rimmer had been up to. He could do that. He was a born talker, his adoptive Grandmother had made sure of that.

He cleared his throat, shuffling back into the chair until he was leaning back to the point that he was almost half-horizontal. "I know you haven't been gone long and all that, man, but you've seriously missed some crazy stuff. You'd laugh to hear it."

No flicker of recognition, no movement. Rimmer's eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.

Lister pressed on, determined. "Course, most of it was the Cat smelling things that weren't really there. I dunno what's happened to him but he's seriously lost his sniffing mojo. I think he's missed you."

The tiniest of exhales, almost a snort; was he imagining that?

"Kryten's been cooking up a storm in the kitchen. He seems to have really taken to it, coming up with all sorts of recipes. He made a mean curry the other day, I'm telling you – it almost blew my socks off. He's really kicked it up a notch. One time he used a whole two pots of curry powder, absolutely mental. I told him it wasn't nearly hot enough but I swear to god, I was crapping fire for two day's straight. I think he's trying to impress me or something."

He leaned back a little further, settling into the pointless one-sided conversation. "Not much has changed, though. It's weird, really, how much I've gotten used to the whole travelling through space lark. Every now and then I get that old pang to be back on Earth, even just to be with Peterson in Parrots, getting wasted and doing stupid smeg that you'd sneer at and judge us for... but most of the time, it's sort of normal. Being here. I know it's not exactly five-star accommodation or anything, but this is the closest place to home I've got. I never really thought of it like that until recently." He stared up at the ceiling as he knew Rimmer to be, his fingers aimlessly twiddling in his lap. "I know you'd think I'd start craving some other sort of company, new people – then again, Kochanski wasn't exactly an expected guest but y'know, there she is, probably sitting in her bunk waiting for me to..."

Lister stopped, realising he was beginning to branch upon a subject that he was not yet ready to divulge. It could wait. It wasn't the sort of conversation that would be easy, especially when one of the parties involved was laconic. He cleared his throat again, changing the subject as deftly as he could, completely unaware of Rimmer's eyes darting to him and then back at the metal above them, the briefest of unseen evidence that the man could hear every word and was more than capable of reacting.

"I've got to be honest with you, Rimmer, I don't really know what I'm supposed to be doing in here with you." He gave a short laugh, shaking his head. "I know I'm your primary carer and everything but – well, I said it to Kryten, I can barely look after myself let alone someone in the sort of state you are. Not that you're past hope or anything," he quickly intercepted himself, sitting up and putting his hands out in front of him to make the point clear, "it's just that I've never had to deal with anything like this before. The most responsibility I've ever had was for Frankenstein, and we both know how that turned out."

The words began to tumble out without him even realising it.

"I want to do this though. You spent all those years on Red Dwarf and Starbug and everything, existing to keep me sane and keep me from going off the deep end... and you did it. God knows how, but you did. Don't get me wrong though, sometimes I think you purposefully were a total git about it and maybe tried a little bit to make me lose it, but after all this time, all the time you had to spend with me because it was what was best for me... it made me realise not so long ago how grateful I actually am to you, man. I meant what I said at your fake funeral, about that. You did a great job. I'm... I'm really grateful." He allowed his eyes to linger on Rimmer's non-responsive face, staring at it until it started to go hazy at the edges. "You were a total smeghead, but you did me a solid. I won't forget that. And that's why I'm going to stick by you through this, not just because you were a crewmate and all that stuff, but because you did it for me. When you do that sort of thing for someone, you've gotta give and receive in equal measures and I..."

His voice broke off as he came to from his rambling, his mind clicking back to reality as he realised all that he had been saying. He laughed a deep, throaty laugh, forcing himself to stand up.

"Smeg, listen to me go on and on... I'm turning sentimental in me old age." With a sigh Lister turned away from Rimmer, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking quietly to the other side of the room. "Talking to you like you're a sodding therapist, and you won't even look at me."

* * *

_If I look at you, you'll know. You'll know everything. If I look at you I can't hide anymore, I'll tell you everything and you..._

Rimmer closed his eyes as the door slid shut, listening to Lister's slow footsteps down the hallway.

_If I look at you, you'll walk away for good. I'm sorry, Listy. But I can't. I can't lose you again._

The images of David Lister bleeding out on the ground visited him once more, his own bloodied hands shifting into the memory as the man he had watched die whimpered his final pleas before finally, slowly, taking his last breath.

It rattled in his head long after he had fallen back into unconsciousness, seeping into his fitful dreams and reminding him that it was far from over.


End file.
